


No Holding Back

by Yognautical (KiiKitsune)



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Bloodplay, Frottage, Knifeplay, Light Magical Influence, M/M, Masochism, Unsafe BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1703309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiiKitsune/pseuds/Yognautical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood magic is one of those slippery slopes Will always manages to slide down, head first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Holding Back

He can’t breathe. The humid air sits heavy in his lungs. Everything feels damp. Too warm. Too sensitive.

The slow drip-drip-drip of Parvis’ blood hitting stone is a sharp counterpoint to the sound of his own pulse thrumming in his ears.

The alter fizzles with the life Parv gives it. It smells like burnt hair and ozone. Parv’s eyes are wide, gleaming with the torchlight and his open fascination. He looks at Will and holds the knife out, hilt first.

“Now you.”

Will is stepping forward before he realizes what he intends to do. The leather knife handle fits snugly against his palm. He hesitates.

“Parvis…”

The man in question reaches out and takes the knife back with one hand, Will’s wrist in the other. “I can’t do it alone, Strife.”

And, oh, he’s so weak.

Will inhales sharply and lets Parv drag his arm out over the alter. He lets the cuff of his sleeve be unbuttoned, then rolled up to his elbow. Carefully. Deliberately. When the blade finally breaks the soft, milky skin of his inner arm he nearly groans with the release of tension. Instead, he bites down on his tongue and snaps his eyes shut to keep Parv from seeing the way they glaze over.

The pads of Parv’s fingers are rough from guitar strings. They press in, steady, against his pulse, then slide down to his palm. He opens his hand obligingly and Parv’s thumb traces up his life line.

Will can hear Parv’s breathing. It’s nearly as erratic as his own.

“You like this.” There’s a note of wonder in the whispered words.

Will’s eyebrows draw together. His jaw tightens. Parv’s thumb caresses his index finger.

“What on earth _did_ you get up to in college?”

Will opens his eyes then, intent on snapping at Parv, only to realize how woozy he feels. A quick glance down at the alter reveals just how much of his blood has been drained. He waivers, arm falling out of Parvis’ loose grip as he takes an unsteady step back.

Parv circles the alter quickly. It’s a good thing he does, because it means he’s there to catch Will with an arm looped around his chest as he crumples. Parv guides him down to the cool obsidian floor and Will clutches weakly at Parv’s t-shirt. He’s still bleeding. It’s smearing across Parv’s skin; matting down the dark hair on his arm.

Parv closes his bony fingers over the open wound as if to hold it shut. Blood just seeps down past his knuckles.

“You look a wreck.”

Chest heaving, Will can’t even muster up the energy to glare at Parv. “Never again.”

Parv hauls Will up into a more comfortable position, propping Will against his leg and using his newly freed hand to push sweat dampened hairs off Will’s forehead. Will leans into the touch, arching his neck back to follow it.

“S’too hot,” Will mumbles, picking uselessly at the buttons of his vest.

Parv pops the buttons for him, then undoes his dress shirt for good measure. Will drags the shirt open to either side of his ribcage but can’t be bothered to properly take it off. He knows he must be a sight; flushed red right down to his navel like a shy teenager during class presentations. Everything feels heavy.

“Oh.” The sound is short and surprised and makes Will’s spine tingle. The hand Parv has over his cut twitches, tightening.

If Will hadn’t been right next to it he might have missed the rising bulge being crushed down by Parv’s skinny jeans. He’s probably lost too much blood to get an erection himself, but the thought of Parv… His mouth is suddenly dry.

Will wants to know what Parv is thinking, because the look he’s raking over Will’s skin isn’t one Will recognizes. There’s nothing playful or teasing in it.

“Parvis?” Will asks.

“Alex?” Will tries again.

Parv extricates himself out from under Will, wetting his lips. “Just… let me try something, yeah?”

His weight settles over Will’s hips, his shoulders hunched slightly, waiting like a starved hound.

Permission slips off Will’s tongue easily.

The knife is suddenly back. The flat of it presses just beneath his left nipple. It’s cold, but it burns as it slices his flesh. The cut is shallow. It makes Will’s eyes roll up towards his skull nonetheless.

He groans at the second cut, between pectoral and rib, and writhes at the third. Parv takes his lead, riding out the motion with ease.

Will doesn’t have particularly well defined abdominals, but the knife finds the split between sides easily enough. Parv runs the blade up from there, not dipping into flesh until he reaches Will’s clavicle. The slice is quick and neat, and Parv closes his lips over it.

“God…” If Will could have summoned the strength, he might have gripped Parv’s hair; held him tight and demanded more. As it was, he was content to lay there and revel in the feeling of teeth and tongue and stinging pain.

“Please,” he says, voice rough. Even he isn’t sure what he wants, but Parvis gets on well enough. A line of red dashes mark Parv’s path down to Will’s hipbones.

Parv sits up and smudges the bloody line with his fingertips. The touch registers as sharp, sending flares of pain into the pit of Will’s stomach.

“Good?”

“Yes.” The word feels like it’s ripped from his throat. It shouldn’t be good. Not by any stretch of the imagination. He thought he’d left this horrible, ugly want behind him.

Parvis grins and Will realizes, with a terrifying burst of arousal, that his teeth are stained red with Will’s own blood.

Parv tugs at the open collar of Will’s shirt, drawing it down his arms without taking it fully off. He kneads at Will’s deltoids and Will hadn’t even noticed how tense he’d been holding himself until he relaxes under the touch. It feels nice; like he’s sinking into the floor.

He barely registers the next few cuts. His arms are left covered in thin stripes.

Parv leans over him, bumping their foreheads together and staying there. Will can feel Parv’s breath fan across his face on every exhale. The change in angle presses Parv’s erection against his stomach.

Fingers slide over and grasp at Will’s face, painting him in his own blood. A thumb dips past Will’s lips and Will sucks without thinking. The groan it earns him from Parv is affirmation enough. He turns his head and licks at Parv’s other fingers, at his palm. There’s blood across his nose now, on his jaw, caught in his stubble.

The hand Will isn’t sucking on molds to Will’s ribs. Nails dig into the small cuts left there earlier. It hurts, and Will’s brain must have some wires crossed because he doesn’t want it to stop.

“You’re so good Will,” Parv’s eyes are closed and his hips are rocking gently, “So good.”

The air trapped in his lungs burns. Will forces himself to breathe, gasping and irregular. It’s too much.

“Look at you,” Parv says, leaning back and cupping Will’s skull with his spit-slick hand, his thumb settling just in front of Will’s ear, “You love this, don’t you?”

It’s not really a question, but Will is so far gone that he answers anyways. “Yes.”

Parv laughs, fleeting and breathy. “Oh god, I’ve made such a mess of you.”

Whatever grace Parv still had is gone as he ruts against Will. His jeans are rough on Will’s bare skin and rougher on the cuts. Will is probably getting blood on the fabric, along with everything else, but it’s too dark to see and he only cares insomuch as it means Parv is covered in it.

He raises his arms just enough to get them on Parv’s thighs. Restricted by his shirt and sluggish in his haze, he can’t do much more than rest them there. Still, it’s enough to coax Parv into opening a new wound on Will’s cheek. He flinches as the knife skims right past his eye, unable to help the curl of anticipation coupled with his brief moment of fear. Parv kisses the cut. Blocked in and this close, Will only catches glimpses of it all. Impressions of the situation fly past like a shaky rotoscope; white knuckles against the knife hilt, black jean against the light blond hair on his stomach, red rivulets creeping across obsidian.

Dropping the knife, Parv grips Will by the shoulders and rides him hard. Parv’s high whine sounds as desperate as Will feels.

“M’so close. You look so good. Feel so good.” Parv grabs Will’s neck, his face, his arms; grinding Will into the floor. He claws at Will’s damaged skin, widening wounds and collecting blood in the grooves of his fingerprints.

Will keens, vision blurring. A wave of lightheadedness washes over him as Parvis hits the apex of his arousal. Everything goes black.

When he wakes up again he finds himself laid out on the double bed. For a moment, he wonders if he’d imagined it all, but the cuts are a quick and vivid reminder that it was real.

He sits up slowly, wincing as the motion seems to want to pull his torn flesh in every direction. He feels nauseous.

Across the room, Parv is standing over the alter. He’s facing away from Will, but his arms are hanging loosely at his sides and Will can see the dried blood still decorating the man’s skin.

“Parvis?”

His head snaps up, looking back over his shoulder at Will. He hadn’t cleaned his face either. It sparks something primal deep within Will’s chest. That’s _his_ blood. Parv is filthy with it. They both are.

“Water?” Will asks. Parv strides over to the chest, pulling out a glass bottle. He sits on the edge of the bed as he offers it up. Will’s hands are shaking when he takes it and drinks.

Parv watches him for a moment before reaching out to steady the bottle.

“I’m… not sure what just happened.” Parv says, finally.

“Blood magic happened,” Will replies, leaning back against the headboard and closing his eyes for a moment.

“I didn’t… I don’t…” Parv runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, “I’ve never even thought about that kind of…”

“This is why I didn’t want you to start--”

“I want to do it again,” Parv cuts him off, dark eyes suddenly narrowed directly at Will, “Tell me I can.”

Will licks his chapped lips, taking in Parv’s debauched appearance. Somewhere along the line he’d written Parv off as being too silly, too immature, too easily distracted. The man sitting in front of him is none of those things. He looks like he’s come fresh off of a battlefield. Or a crime scene. Maybe it’s the influence of the magic but there’s a dull ache in the back of Will’s mind, urging him to _do something_ about it. What, exactly, he isn’t sure, but he’s been down this path before. It never leads anywhere good.

And yet.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can.”


End file.
